CURRENT ISSUE - 1.3
WRITE THE WORLD WEBSITE
by MAY ZHENG (United States)
Air sticks to my skin,
like honey. mosquitos circle my ankles and wrists
WHEN I LEAVE
by SIRIN JITKLONGSUB (Thailand)
These are the scents I will take with me when I leave this house.
FIVE TIMES WHEN I CATCH MYSELF ALIVE
by MERIT ONYEKWERE (United States)
When Uchechi’s voice crackles with laughter and her almond brown eyes crease . . .
by SAACHI GUPTA (India)
There’s a moment in kindergarten when I realize that the other grandparents don’t smile.
A BRIEF HISTORY VIA EGG
by MELISSA XU (United States)
I grew up eating an excessive amount of eggs. Actually, that’s a little misleading.
THE FOOD THAT BINDS US
by ROSALEEN SWEITI (United States)
There's a sort of spell that falls over the dinner table as we wait for the athan to sound.
A VILLAGE SUMMER
by BAYA LAIMECHE (United States)
She spoke with her hands, weaving stories out of air and breathing life into them . . .
by ISABEL ALTAMIRANO (Canada)
"Vente, mi amor, help me with dinner." I bound over to the kitchen, shooting a full-brace grin up at my abuela. She chuckled, patting me on the back, and led me to the counter.
"Here is the recipe", she said, waving to an ancient book . . .
by ANNIE CHENG (United States)
You always liked to watch the trains as they passed by, one after another, right on schedule. You liked the whooshing sound of the breaks as the train slowed into the station, and the whirring of the engine as it started up again.